The Forgotten
by sparklingjewel
Summary: Harry Potter was proud to say that he was perfectly normal, thank you very much. He was the last person you’d expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because he just didn’t hold with such nonsense. [NOT AU]
1. Chapter 1

_Hey, everyone! This is my first fanfic, and I just want to tell you a little bit about it...it will seem like AU a bit at first, but it's not. I've been working on this fic for a while, so I'll have more chapters to post soon! Until then, I hope this one intriques you enough to keep you interested! Enjoy...  
(Oh, and I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters. I'm simply borrowing them!)_

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**The Forgotten**

Harry Potter was proud to say that he was perfectly normal, thank you very much. He was the last person you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because he just didn't hold with such nonsense.

Harry's life had started out anything but normal. He and his parents were involved in a car accident when he was just barely a year old. He had been the only survivor, and now he carried a life-long reminder of the day his parents had died in the form of a lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead.

Luckily, however, Harry's aunt and uncle had graciously taken him in, raising him as their own alongside his cousin, Dudley. It was there he had learned to be normal despite his very unusual start in life. They had given him everything he knew his own mother and father would have given him, and they always seemed so very pleased that he'd turned out the way he did.

So tonight, on the eve of his nineteenth birthday, it was not in any way unusual when Harry picked up the phone in his modest London flat to call Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. It was a routine he had begun the day he moved out of their house, and Harry held true every Friday night. After all, his life had been ruled by routine and normalcy in its purest form.

At least, that's the way Harry remembered it…


	2. Chapter 2

_Wow, thanks for the reviews! I'm glad I've got you all interested! As I said, I've been working on this story for a while, so I have a few chapters that can be posted soon, but I'm eventually going to have to sit down to write more, so they won't be coming as quickly. But for now, here's Chapter 2!_

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Harry was halfway through his aunt and uncle's phone number when a knock sounded on his door. He hung up the phone and stared curiously at the door. He didn't know anyone in London. Who could this be?

He opened the door and was surprised to see a girl a head shorter than him, though her eyes told him she was his age, give or take a year. In fact, it was her eyes that intrigued him. They were wide, as if trying to take everything in front of them in, and were the brightest blue he'd ever seen.

"Hello Harry," she said suddenly.

Harry blinked. "Um…hello."

Before he knew what had happened, she'd tossed her head, throwing her long blonde hair out of her face, and pushed past him, making her way into his flat and plopping down on his sofa.

"Erm…excuse me, do I know you?"

She cocked her head and blinked. "Of course you do."

"No," Harry replied, "No, see, that was rhetorical because I don't know you, and I was hoping you'd leave."

The girl just stared at him. "What are you going on about, Harry?"

"Who are you!" Harry roared, losing patience.

She threw him a pitying look and replied in a tone of mock explanation, "I'm Luna Lovegood. I live in the flat above yours. We agreed that we'd walk to Hermione's together, since we were both invited to her party."

Needless to say, Harry was quite taken aback. Luna stared at him, waiting for a response. He didn't give her the one she expected.

"Look, I don't know who you are or why you're here, in _my_ flat, rambling on about Shakespeare characters…"

"Shakes…who?"

Harry snapped his mouth shut and stared at her, dumbfounded. She merely blinked.

"You know what," Harry continued, "Get out." He opened the door, but she didn't move.

"C'mon," Harry insisted, grabbing her round the wrist and pulling her toward the door. "And don't let the door hit you on the way out," he said as he pushed her into the corridor and slammed the door behind her.

For the next five minutes, Harry watched her through the peep-hole. To his surprise, she didn't knock or speak or barely even move. She simply stared at the door. _'Don't you ever leave?' _Harry thought, rolling his eyes.

As his gaze refocused on the corridor, she was gone. Harry rubbed his eyes, making sure he was seeing clearly. He opened the door slightly, peered down the corridor left, then right, but she was nowhere to be found.

Harry shuddered as he closed the door and made sure to lock it. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he didn't like it at all.

It was as if Luna had just…disappeared.


	3. Chapter 3

_Ok, this will probably be the last "speedy update" for a while. I'm working on the fourth and fifth chapters, but school and work tend to get in the way sometimes. Anyway, oh! I forgot to mention...the romance aspect of this story will be Harry/Ginny (possibly with some Ron/Hermione on the side).You won't see Ginny for a while though. Sorry to those of you who aren't keen on H/G, but I am possibly the biggest supporter of H/G & R/Hr that you'll ever meet!_

_Alright, on with the story! (And thanks again for the reviews!)_

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"_Alright_, Luna! I understand…no, I don't understand what's going on with Harry, but I understand that you don't understand…oh, come off! It very well did make sense! Stop laughing! And give me that ridiculous newspaper rubbish! Must you take it _everywhere_!"

Harry sat shot up, looking wildly around. He was in his living room, and, he deduced, had fallen asleep on the couch. He had woken up to someone whispering angrily, whom, he suspected, was trying to be quiet, but was failing miserably. He heard muffled giggles coming from the corridor off of the kitchen. As the angry voice had mentioned, he guessed the giggling was coming from Luna.

"Hello?" he called, half angry, half confused that this Luna person would not leave him alone. The whispering and laughter abruptly stopped.

Harry was moving closer to the kitchen as two girls, one Luna, one he didn't recognize, sheepishly appeared out of the corridor. The girl he didn't know, a bushy haired brunette, smiled brightly at him.

"Er…hello, Harry! Sorry if we startled you."

Harry looked at Luna, who was paying absolutely no attention to the situation at hand. She was gazing around his kitchen, eyes wide and a small smile playing at her lips. Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to the brunette.

"Are you Hermione, then?"

Her smiled faded slightly. "Yes, of course, Harry. Luna mentioned that you were acting a bit…off." She continued, as though saying it would confirm its truth. "Is everything alright?"

"I don't think so," he replied carefully. His confusion was beginning to consume his anger. "I don't believe I know you, but you both seem to know me."

Hermione stared at him. "What are you talking about, Harry? You and I spoke through the floo just last night…"

"The _floo_?" Harry replied incredulously.

Hermione's eyes seemed to pierce his soul. He could tell she was unnerved by his responses, but to be completely honest, he was rather unnerved by her gaze. He shivered slightly without realizing it. "We spoke through…through the floo?" He asked, forcing calm through his confusion. She seemed to sense it.

"Harry, are you being serious right now, because this isn't funny."

"What?"

"Don't play your bloody prat games with me! You save those for Ron and other people who actually find humor in them!"

"Ron?" Harry questioned as he saw Luna's head jerk out of the corner of his eye. She was staring at Hermione, as though she'd just said something of inconceivable value. Hermione kept her eyes trained on Harry.

"Yes, Luna, I have the ability to swear, too."

Luna blinked then chuckled slightly to herself. She went back to examining the surroundings as she pushed past Harry and wandered into the living room.

"Hey!" he called after her. "Stay in here, please! Would you just…" Realizing his pleas were hopeless as they seemed to be unheard or possibly just ignored, Harry rounded on Hermione.

"Would you get her out of here, please! I'm not comfortable with strangers roaming my home!"

But Hermione didn't answer, she just continued to stare. Finally, Harry had had enough of that, too. "And stop staring at me! It's bizarre!"

"You really don't know who we are, do you?" Hermione asked quietly.

"No!" Harry said, relieved someone finally was listening to him. "Should I?"

"Yes," Hermione said simply. "Yes, you should."


	4. Chapter 4

_Wow, my sincerest apologies that it has taken me so long to update. School is a bit hectic right now, and unfortunately, my writing often suffers.  
Anyway, without further ado...chapter 4!_

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Harry was shifting uncomfortably under the gaze of a roomful of people he didn't know. A ginger haired boy about his age finally spoke up. 

"I don't understand, mate. How could you just forget who we are?"

Harry looked at him warily. He'd been bombarded with questions of the like for the past ten minutes after Hermione had recounted what had happened in his flat. "I don't know," he said quietly.

People around him began to whisper to each other, staring at him as though he were mad. He had a thought that he was probably experiencing how an animal at a zoo must feel. Caged and on display, for strangers to talk about as they pleased. He looked at Hermione pleadingly.

"Alright, everyone, that's enough. Let's just enjoy the party for right now. We'll figure everything out later."

Most everyone muttered their assent as they turned back to their drinks and dancing. Everyone, except for Hermione and the ginger haired boy, whom Harry had been told was Ron. They were whispering to each other, and shooting glances at him. Their voices steadily rose, though Harry couldn't hear what they were saying, but he could tell they were arguing. He was surprised to see how brightly Hermione's eyes flared when Ron would brush off her comments with a wave of his hand or a roll of his eyes. Ron's cheeks were tinged with pink, a result of trying to keep from yelling. Finally, it seemed Hermione had won as Ron stormed off into the other room. Hermione turned to him and smiled.

"Well, Harry, you should enjoy the party as well! After all, you're the guest of honor!"

Harry looked confused. "But why?"

"Just because you've forgotten us," Hermione began with a tone that told Harry she still didn't quite believe him. "Surely you haven't forgotten your own birthday! It's tomorrow, Harry, but we're celebrating tonight because…" she suddenly snapped her mouth shut and her eyes dropped to the floor as though she were searching for another explanation. Before she could come up with one, Harry interrupted.

"Why?"

"What?"

"Why are we celebrating tonight?"

At that moment, Ron joined them at Hermione's side, looking triumphant. "I told you we'd have to tell him."

Hermione's breathing deepened. "I just didn't think it wise to bombard him with so much information at once, Ronald."

"Bloody hell, Hermione, he's not an idiot! He would've suspected something sooner or later!"

"_Thank you_, Ronald!"

Harry quirked an eyebrow. He was finding it rather uncomfortable to be talked about as though he wasn't sitting two feet in front of them. Ron opened his mouth to respond, but Hermione swept in front of him, kneeling before Harry to look into his eyes.

"Harry…" She hesitated.

"Yes?"

"You're…we're…you see…"

"You're a wizard, Harry."

Harry looked up at Ron, who shrugged his shoulders at a glaring Hermione. He opened his mouth to question the statement, but he was suddenly overcome with a great emotion he couldn't quite describe. It was glaringly reminiscent of a déjà vu. Confused, he snapped his mouth shut.

"Harry," Hermione began gently. "This may come as a bit of a shock, but yes, you're a wizard. And so is Ron. And I'm a witch."

Harry blinked as he stared at her. Hermione certainly didn't look like a witch. Weren't witches supposed to be ugly and wrinkled and covered in warts? No, Hermione was the farthest thing from a witch. Stark raving mad, perhaps, but certainly not a witch.

"And the reason we're celebrating your birthday tonight is because…" Hermione drew a shaky breath, and Harry noticed a sadness in her eyes. "We have a funeral to go to tomorrow."

"How inappropriate."

Hermione gasped. "Excuse me?"

"To be celebrating a day of life on the eve of a ceremony for a death? It doesn't seem right, does it?"

Hermione couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. "I suppose not."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Harry commented.

When she finally looked up at him, Harry was startled to see silent tears flowing down Hermione's face. He immediately felt a need to comfort her. "I'm sorry," he offered, not really knowing what he was apologizing for. It just seemed appropriate.

Hermione responded with a small, yet forced, smile. "Oh, Harry," she whispered.

Sensing that this topic was a hard one for Hermione, Harry decided it best to change the subject. "A wizard, you say?"

Ron stepped in now. He placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder and squeezed it gently. "Yeah," he told Harry. "Hard to believe, eh?"

Harry shook his head disbelievingly. If Hermione hadn't been so upset, he imagined he would've been angry. Strangers traipsing in and out of his flat, telling him he was a regular Merlin or something. It was all very confusing and, he was realizing, infuriating. But this girl, who now looked so small next to Ron's gangly form, had transformed from a vibrant ball of stubborn energy into a sobbing mess right before his eyes. It was enough to turn any man's heart soft, a woman crying, and Harry felt his anger ebbing away.

"I don't understand," he admitted, deciding to let them explain rather than brushing them off without a second thought.

"Ever wonder where you got that scar from?" Ron gestured to Harry's forehead.

Immediately, Harry felt his heart begin to race. He fought back the urge to trace the scar with his fingertip, as he had done on so many other occasions. "I know where it came from," Harry answered, his voice sharper than he meant it to be. "I got it the day my parents died."

He expected Hermione and Ron to snap to attention at this statement. He expected Hermione to gasp. He expected the exact same reaction from these two that he always got when he told someone his parents were dead. When they obliged him, he looked at Ron, expecting an embarrassed apology.

"You mean you know?"

That, he wasn't expecting.

Harry narrowed his eyebrows. "Of course I know," he snapped. "We were in a car accident when I was a baby. They were killed instantly. I survived with this scar." He gritted his teeth as he recounted the tale. Where did these kinds of people come from? How rude could you get?

Ron lowered his head and Hermione burst into fresh tears. "No, mate," Ron said suddenly. "That's not what happened."

Harry's already thin patience had worn out. He stood quickly and hurried to the door without another word. Under any other circumstances, he would've given Ron and Hermione a piece of his mind, but at that point, they didn't seem to Harry to be worth it.

That night, Harry tossed and turned in his sleep. He awoke abruptly, gasping for air and sweating profusely. He sat up and dropped his head into his hands. Feeling the lightning bolt under his fringe, he allowed himself to cry. His body racked with sobs as his dream replayed in his head.

It had been so long since he'd last dreamt about his parents. In his dreams, he'd always seen them smiling. They were always happy. Sometimes he dreamt of his mother holding him in her arms, cooing at him until she was rewarded with a smile and a gurgle. Other times, he dreamt of his father rocking him to sleep in his nursery, laughing softly as he began snoring.

Tonight, however, was different. There was no smiling, no laughter. The dream was completely devoid of any happiness whatsoever. Tonight, he dreamt of his mother screaming. He dreamt of his father crying. Tonight, he dreamt of a flash of green light and emptiness.

Harry couldn't stand the darkness any longer. Without even thinking, he plunged his hand under his pillow, extracted a long wooden cylinder, and screamed, "Lumos" quickly, before the harsh emptiness of the darkness enveloped him as it had his parents in his vivid dream.

The room flooded with light and Harry's heartbeat returned to normal. He sighed, wiping fresh sweat from his brow. It was then that he noticed the object he was clutching in his hand for the first time. He stared at it confusedly.

'_What did I do?'_ The thought screamed in his mind as he stared at the cylinder. More important, however, was the next thought thatentered his mind.

'_How did I know how to do it?'_


End file.
